Out of My Mind

by Pat White

  “Have fun.”

  “Thanks.” I rush outside into the cool night.

  A huge weight has been lifted off my heart. I’ve made a bit of peace with my father. Maybe I’ve even helped him let go of some of his own guilt.

  The back door to Clarisse’s Jeep opens and Andrea motions me inside. “You excited?” she squeaks.

  “Totally.” I get into the Jeep.

  “We’re gonna kick ass tonight,” Taylor says from the front seat as Clarisse pulls away.

  I’d like to kick Greg’s ass clear across the state.

  They crank “One More Night” by Maroon 5 and I choke back tears. I’d give anything to have one more night with J.D.

  * * *

  We win the football game twenty to seven and the crowd goes nuts. Someone grabs my arm and spins me around.

  Greg kisses me, long and hard. It’s not a loving gesture, but a claiming kiss, as if to tell the world I belong to him. Why does he even want me? He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know the real Cat Westfield.

  I push him away and joke, “Easy there. We don’t want to get arrested.”

  “Speaking of arrested, what’s he doing here?” Taylor says, with a disapproving frown.

  I glance at the bleachers and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. J.D. is standing there, tall and handsome, his hair falling across his forehead…

  Glaring at me.

  Of course he is. He just saw me kiss Greg and pretend to like it. His pained expression rips through me like a scalpel through skin.

  Not only is J.D. going to blow this way out of proportion and believe what he just saw was real, but now Greg can toss a bomb and blame it on J.D. because he’s no longer in jail.

  “What are you looking at, creep?” Greg taunts.

  J.D. shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and walks away, taking a piece of my heart with him.

  Gotta deal with that later. Right now I have to calm Greg down so he doesn’t follow through with his plan.

  “How did he get out of jail?” I ask to no one in particular.

  “His little brother,” Clarisse says.

  The four of us glance at her.

  “The stuff they found in the garage was part of an extra credit assignment for science. You know, the one where you mix three liquids that are supposed to separate when they settle?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Taylor says.

  Clarisse shrugs. “That’s what he said.”

  I smile and shake my head. Way to go, Billy.

  “What are you smiling at?” Taylor asks. Greg studies me.

  Ooops.

  “Some people,” I shake my head, “are born with a golden horseshoe up their ass.”

  Everyone cracks up and I hide my warring emotions behind a broad smile. J.D. is out of jail, which fills my heart with relief. Relief smothered by dread since it gives Greg the opportunity to torch something and pin it on J.D.

  I consider spending the night with Greg to make sure he doesn’t carry out his plan. A shudder crawls down my spine.

  Better idea: at the post-game party I’ll slip a few Norco into his beer. Nothing like a little Codeine to knock you out. The thought bothers me, but a burning school bothers me more.

  “We’ll meet you at Bobby’s house,” Taylor says to Greg. She tugs on my arm so I guess I’m expected to go with her.

  “You’d better be there,” Greg points at me.

  The coach calls to him from the edge of the field. I hope I’m not completely blowing it by letting Greg out of my sight. But he’ll be with teammates, and then meet me at the party where I’ll drug him.

  I should feel badly about what I’m about to do, but I’d feel worse if I ignored my HULU and people got hurt.

  It was time to accept my ability, embrace it, maybe even accept myself. Something I’ve learned from J.D.

  I wonder if he’ll ever speak to me again.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later we pull up to Bobby McDonald’s house in Clarisse’s Jeep. Driving seems to be her new role in the group. I wonder if it’s because it makes Taylor feel important to be chauffeured around, or if she’s afraid to drive after almost hitting me. We’ve never talked about that night. She’s never apologized.

  Bobby’s house is already rockin’. I’m guessing his parents are out of town.

  I glance up and down the street for Greg’s car or any sign of J.D. But he wouldn’t risk coming to a party where he’ll be abused. We pile out of the car and start for the house. My phone vibrates with a text: Bushes by car.

  It’s J.D.’s number. I bite back a squeal of joy.

  “Wait, I forgot something in the car,” I say.

  Clarisse hits the unlock button. “We’ll meet you inside.”

  I practically float to the car, unable to control my excitement. I pretend to look in the back seat for something, and glance at the house. The girls disappear inside and I lock the door, just as J.D. grabs my hand.

  He pulls me into the bushes. “Why did you do that?”

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “You told Detective Ryan about your HULU’s?”

  “He told you?”

  “He figured I already knew.”

  “I thought I could help,” I explain.

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Angry, I turn to leave but he won’t let go of my hand.

  “You shouldn’t put yourself at risk for me. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “Why? Because you care about me? You are so full of it. You’re not acting like you care—”

  He stops my rant with a kiss. Works for me. I’ve missed these lips, these arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close.

  I can’t get close enough.

  I could stay here all night but I know the girls will come looking for me. Greg will come looking for me.

  I break the kiss. “They’re waiting for me inside.”

  J.D. steps back and eyes my outfit. I’m wearing a short skirt, snug top and my moonstone choker.

  “What are you planning to do?” he asks.

  “Stay close, maybe jump into a Greg HULU to figure out how to stop him.”

  “No, don’t go there.” His eyes widen with worry. “Cat, please?”

  “Stop, okay? I’m a big girl.” I push away from him and head for the house. If I look into his amazing eyes for one more minute, I might change my mind and take off with J.D.

  I can’t walk away from my responsibilities.

  “Catherine,” he calls after me.

  I ignore him and glance both ways before crossing the street. I blink back tears. I don’t want to leave J.D.

  I never want to leave him.

  I march toward the house, anxious to drug Greg and get this night over with. I glance up and spot Greg looming on the front porch. Shit.

  “What the hell did he do to you?” Greg accuses.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  J.D. watched her race into Hoffman’s arms and hug him.

  Tight. Like she was never letting go.

  Greg glared at J.D. who’d stepped out of the bushes to try and talk some sense into Catherine.

  J.D. was so damned tired of hiding.

  With a shake of his head he walked away, pissed as hell that she wouldn’t listen to him and kept putting herself in danger.

  For him.

  Maybe her judgment was seriously messed up from the accident. He didn’t know anymore. Was she playing him? Playing both of them? That seemed easier to believe than the alternative: she was putting herself at risk because…

  She loved him.

  He still didn’t know what to do with that. It scared the hell out of him.

  And Cat deserved so much better.

  He glanced up at the dark sky dotted with stars. Only a coward would leave her there, defenseless against a bastard like Hoffman.

  Figuring he had about an hour before Detective Ryan came looking for h
im, J.D. decided to crash the party and convince her to leave. He had to protect Cat, make sure that bastard didn’t take advantage of her. The thought of Hoffman touching her was worse than any beating from Dad.

  J.D. still couldn’t believe she confessed her ability to Detective Ryan and exposed her secret.

  For J.D.

  A prickling sensation started at the base of his neck. It was the same feeling he got just before Dad came at him with a wooden spatula, or belt. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone.

  When he turned back, three football players were blocking the sidewalk. J.D. was totally screwed.

  “Hey, Pratt,” Bryce Sommers said, taking a step toward him. “We heard you got out of jail. Can you score us some weed?”

  “I’m not a dealer.”

  “That’s not what we heard,” another kid said. J.D. didn’t know his name.

  “I don’t have anything.” His pulse raced, a familiar response to the anticipation of violence.

  “You mind if we check your pockets?” Bryce said.

  J.D. turned to run but the third guy, Pete Striden, grabbed his jacket. Pete flung J.D. to the lawn, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled for air.

  “Do it,” a guy said.

  Were they nuts? He’d seen their faces and could identify them.

  Yeah, and who would the cops believe, three football stars or J.D., who was just released from jail?

  Someone shoved a sock into his mouth and pulled his arms behind his back. J.D. kicked and twisted, but without the use of his hands or the ability to call out for help he was completely screwed.

  They dragged him to a sedan and shoved him in the trunk. “Have a nice night.” Bryce slammed the trunk closed, plunging J.D. into complete darkness.

  * * *

  I pace the front porch of the party house, wondering what happened to Greg. He got a mysterious text and said he’d be right back.

  That was over an hour ago. Before I could spike his beer.

  I wasn’t worried at the time because he seemed okay, not crazed or anything. After he’d spotted me with J.D. it took me a good twenty minutes to calm him down. I explained that J.D. was asking if he could still take notes for me and I threatened to file a harassment complaint if he didn’t leave me alone. That pleased Greg immensely. He hugged me and said that’s what he loves about me the most: my strength.

  Love? I don’t think so. It feels more like possession.

  I glance at my cell phone. Eleven thirty. I wish J.D. would text me, but he’s probably still angry about my plan to stick close to Greg. Well, I’m not close to Greg right now, damn it. Panic tangles my insides at the thought of Greg out there somewhere playing pyro.

  Two of Greg’s friends, Bryce and Alan, get out of a car and walk up to the house. They’re laughing and high fiving each other.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey, back,” Bryce says.

  “Have you seen Greg?”

  “Oh, we’ve seen him all right,” Alan snickers.

  “Where is he?”

  “He’ll call,” Bryce says. “He’s got a surprise for you.”

  They lumber into the house and the group cries out with congratulations on winning the football game.

  I could care less about football. I’m focused on finding Greg. I shoot him a text: Where r u? I miss u

  I pace back and forth. Wait. No response.

  I text J.D.: U OK?

  Another few minutes pass.

  Pacing the porch like a caged panther, I consider heading to school. But what if Greg has changed his plans and gone someplace else?

  Which is possible because things have changed since the original HULU. Anything can happen and I can no longer anticipate what Greg’s going to do next.

  I remember Greg’s eyes, glaring death rays at J.D. across the street earlier. Greg looked like…

  He could kill J.D.

  I rush into the house and spot Bryce in the living room dancing with Clarisse. Well, kind of dancing. She’s leaning away from him as he tries to kiss her.

  I push my way through the group and yank him off of her. “Where is he?” I shout over the music.

  “Hey, back off.”

  I rip off my sunglasses, but I hope he’ll talk to me so I don’t have to jump into a HULU.

  “Where the hell is Greg?” I demand.

  “He’ll be here when he’s done.”

  “Done with that?”

  He leans forward, his eyes sparkling. “Your surprise.”

  I grab his arm and dig my fingernails into his skin to get his attention. “Tell me where Greg is or—”

  “What, you gonna cry, moron?”

  That one word triggers a HULU. I plummet into a bottomless pit and land in the middle of the street. I look up and see three guys carrying a body and tossing it into the trunk of a car. I recognize the Vans skateboard shoes.

  “No!” I jump to my feet and pound on the trunk. “J.D.!” I cry.

  Silence.

  I blink a few times to focus. I’m back in the living room and it’s deadly quiet. Someone turned off the music. Although drunk or stoned, everyone’s staring at me like I’m a total whack job.

  I glare at Bryce. “Where did you take him?”

  “Who?”

  “J.D. Pratt. You shoved him into the trunk of a car. Where is he?”

  He pulls away from me. “What the hell?”

  “Tell me!”

  I grab a glass ashtray and wield it over my head. “I swear to God I’m gonna smash your—”

  “Okay, okay!” He puts up his hands. “They’re at school.”

  I hand the ashtray to Taylor whose mouth hangs open in shock. As I march for the door, everyone steps aside as if I’ve got cooties.

  “Crazy bitch!” Bryce calls after me.

  I storm out of the house and into the dark night, digging in my wallet for Detective Ryan’s card. I hesitate on the porch and make the call, but it goes into voice mail.

  “Hey, it’s Cat Westfield. It’s happening. The fire. Meet me at Evergreen High. I think Greg’s got J.D.” I hesitate, feeling J.D.’s fear, his helplessness. “Damn, I hope you get this.”

  As I march away from the house the music starts up behind me. I don’t look back.

  I’m branded now. My reign is over at Evergreen High. After all, I just threatened a jock with an ashtray.

  For J.D. Pratt.

  “Catherine?” Clarisse calls after me.

  I keep walking.

  She catches up to me. “You want a ride?”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll get there faster.” She hits the FOB and unlocks her Jeep.

  “No, really, why?”

  “Because you’re always nice to me?” She shrugs.

  I nod and get into her car, but I can barely breathe past the fear squeezing my lungs. She takes off for school. We can’t get there fast enough.

  I realize J.D. spends his life protecting the people he cares about: his little brother, then me after the accident. He wasn’t stalking me when I came back to school. He was trying to help because he felt awful about what had happened.

  Then, when he found out about my HULU’s, he challenged me to make things work instead of denying my ability. He accepted me in my “new normal” state.

  We turn into the high school parking lot. It’s packed with cars and the B wing is lit up.

  “Why are there so many people here?” I grip the dashboard.

  “Battle of the Bands,” Clarisse says. “It’s a sold out show.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My heart sinks into my stomach.

  “Call 9-1-1,” I order Clarisse and get out of the car.

  “And say what?” she calls after me.

  “I don’t know, suspicious activity at Evergreen High school?”

  I sprint toward the main entrance. Where would Greg be? In my HULU he was making a bomb in the locker room. But he wanted to bench Mr. Cooper, which means…the art room which is no
t far from the auditorium.

  I whip open the metal door and rock music echoes from the auditorium. Just then a few kids spill out into the hallway. I rush around the corner to Cooper’s room. The lights are off and the doors are locked.

  “Damn!” I pound on the door with both fists.

  Where the hell is Greg? And what has he done with J.D.?

  “Catherine?” Greg says, walking up to me. His eyes aren’t quite focused and his cheeks are red, either from excitement or too many beers. Maybe a little of both.

  Voices drift down the hall. He presses his forefinger to his lips and pulls me into an alcove.

  “You found me.” He plants a kiss on my lips.

  I try not to visibly shudder.

  He leans back and smiles, a wicked curl to his lips. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  I wonder if coming in here alone was a good idea.

  He opens the door to the art room and flips on the lights. I bite back a gasp at the sight of J.D., gagged and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. I’ve got to play this right or my HULU will come true.

  No, I won’t let anything happen to J.D.

  “What is he doing here?” I pretend to be horrified.

  J.D. glares at us, pulling on his wrists, bound behind him by strapping tape. He’s helpless.

  “This, my love, is my gift to you,” Greg says, stalking J.D. “I present to you, your enemy.” He waves his arm in a grand gesture. “Do whatever you’d like to him.”

  Uh, that probably doesn’t include untying him, hugging him and kissing him.

  Where are the cops? They should be here by now, unless Clarisse was too timid to make the call. In the meantime I have to manage this psycho who’s trying to please me.

  “I’ve got ideas,” Greg says, grabbing J.D.’s hair and yanking his head back.

  “Me too!” I snap, rushing to J.D. I can’t stand Greg touching him.

  “You’ve got to hate this loser more than anyone,” Greg says.

  “Hate doesn’t even come close.” I glare at J.D.

  Greg releases him and paces to the front of the room. I try to catch J.D.’s attention, but he won’t look at me. His eyes are locked onto Greg with a kind of hatred I’ve never seen before.